The Island (The Madion War Trilogy #1)

Chapter Two, Part VI - Galian

I swiveled my head around when I heard the huge explosion behind me. The plane smoked as it careened down to the island, where it sounded with a large boom that scared away a few flocks of birds. I wasn't sure what had happened, but I was thankful that the bad guy was no longer trying to kill me.

I landed with a soft thump on the sandy beach a little ways from my plane, and immediately dropped to my knees, releasing a loud breath. My hands shook and my heart pounded, but I thanked my lucky stars that I was alive and had practiced parachuting out of my plane a few extra times.

Once my pulse returned to normal, I stood and released myself from the parachute straps, leaving the long trail of lines and white parachute laid out on the beach. I approached the wreckage of my plane. Piece of it lay in a long trail as it had skidded across the sand. I picked up a metal piece that had a bullet hole in it and then tossed it aside.

Besides the nose and engine being smashed to smithereens, the back of the plane was fine. I cracked open the back hatch and pawed through my emergency supplies. I found everything—including the medical bag Dr. Maitland gave me—to be intact. Again, I thanked whatever was up there looking out for me. Of all the outcomes that could've happened from the battle, crash-landing on an island with my supplies was better than most.

A burning smell reached my nose, and I stepped back, searching my plane for any sign of fire. Then I noticed the black column of smoke rising up from the treetops.

Despite everything, worry knotted in my chest. What had happened to the other pilot? I hadn't seen another parachute. Was he even still alive? He was my enemy, but still a fellow human being. I couldn't help but hear Dr. Maitland in my ear.

I don't have the luxury of differentiating between Kylaen and Raven patients.

"Fuck him, he shot me down," I snapped to myself. Served him right if he burnt to a crisp.

I turned my head to look at the southern horizon, scanning the open blue sky for a plane or anyone who'd followed me. I was sure they would be there before sundown.

I mean, after all, I was a damned prince. My father would have to send for me.

I hoped.

Besides, there was no way they could miss the black smoke from the center of the island.

Guilt gnawed at me. I looked down at the medical bag and sighed. Dr. Maitland was right—I was a doctor first and a warrior second. Shouldering my bag, I stumbled off the sandy beach onto the firmer forest ground.

The trees were tall and thick and everything around me was green. It was late summer, but there was definitely a chill in the air since I was so far north. I was thankful for my extra layer under my jumpsuit.

I walked into a clearing, covering my nose from the smell. One of the two wings had been shorn off in the crash and was the source of the black smoke. The rest of the plane was mashed and mangled some ways away. I saw the pilot in the cockpit through the shattered glass, and his helmeted head hung motionless. I was sure that he was dead. I couldn't see how anyone could have survived such a crash.

And then he moved.